Prophecy Reborn
by butterfly-pieces
Summary: Sequel to The Final Prophecy. Allison is learning how to live this "new" life, "new" identity, without John but, it appears, soon, she won't have to be alone, as with John's return, there is a rebirth of another prophecy, one that involves them both in a way neither of them is prepared for...
1. Prologue

**Stating the Obvious:** The following fanfic is a sequel to "Final Prophecy" (because, apparently, I can't quit these two).

**Disclaimer:** I have no right over the Prophecy franchise, the movies, the characters and whatnot. Nor am I versed in the mythology of the movies as a whole.

**Author's Note: **I'm not surprised that I restarted this fic; I think the reviews I'd see in my e-mail made my muse smirk in a very dangerous way. The next thing I knew, I started imagining random scenes in my head (the primary one that came up, I shall not mention, since it'll take a bit for the fic to go to that point, but wow, heart palpitations! This fanfiction is not good for my blood pressure, clearly) and the next thing I knew, this happened. This prologue actually is set before the epilogue I wrote for "The Final Prophecy" so, it's a funny way to start the sequel, but I liked how it set the tone for this fic...and everything that is soon to come.

* * *

Lucifer opens his eyes to something he had never encountered in his lifetime - confusion.

The day of his creation - creation, because he was never born, he was made - he knew what his purpose was, where he was, who his Father was and what he was.

This is the first time since that moment that he feels a somewhat similar feeling - of a new life - but this is one does not involve an awareness of any kind.

He has no idea of what he is opening his eyes to.

He's lying on his side, on a somewhat damp floor where he can detect the faint smell of rain. He looks at his surroundings: a dumpster, a dark alley, a black cat staring at him from a distance - looking past him, in fact. When Lucifer turns to lie on his back, he turns his head and even in the darkness, he recognizes that face.

He looks at the sky, holds his breath and closes his eyes, smiling.

"Oh, the all merciful hypocrite. You couldn't even grant me peace." He sits up, ignoring the soreness overtaking his body as he moves. He leans his back on the wall, ignoring the critters that were just crawling behind him. "Any particular sermon you'd like to bore me with before I take my leave into this wonderful world of sin?"

Lucifer gives him a side-way glance, his features hidden by the shadows, but he can detect a hint of a smile.

After it's clear he's not getting a sermon, or any sweet words of departure, John ignores the pain that shoots through his legs and limbs as he forces himself to stand without using the wall behind him. He turns, ready to walk out of the alley, into the night.

He's testing his senses and they're all there, just as he left them. It makes him stop. Lucifer knows he's still right there, watching him.

"What game is He playing?" Lucifer turns his head, slightly, looking behind him, his gaze solemn. "Your benevolent master uses us as sacrifice and then brings us back...for what purpose?"

There's still no answer but the figure takes a step out of the shadows; that has to count as some kind of a response. That's when John notices the cloak. Oh, the irony, he thinks. A very long time ago, their roles had been somewhat reversed.

"Very well, then. Let the games begin..."

"Lucifer." Hearing his name stops him, the hairs on the back of his neck standing. "She is waiting."

Lucifer doesn't bother turning around, he knows he's gone. He puts his hands in his pockets, smiling.

He may be capable of foolishness - stupidity beyond all reason is often the product of falling in love - but he is not foolish enough to think that this is only about Allison. He has no doubt his Father has bigger plans than that.

He honestly thought his Father would rejoice in his sacrifice; perhaps even open the gates to him, finally, after which John had already been prepared to say, "I didn't do it for you or your hypocritical ideals. I did it for her, and to end your madness."

Of course, Lucifer likes chaos, especially when he has a hand in it, but his chaos is honest. He doesn't hide behind miracles or mysterious ways, as some say. He tortures, he deceives, he maims, all for the purpose of toying with someone, testing their limits and, ultimately, leading them into his domain. But his Father...His are methods that Lucifer doesn't exactly agree on.

After all, one grows to hate that which he is constantly competing against, and losing. If Lucifer is responsible for all evil, and yet, he did not create it, how can he ever win against the omnipotent, and sadistic, God?

Lucifer finally arrives at the alley he had been searching for - his senses are still his own and yet his body feels different somehow - and he stands before the wall, awaiting the door to emerge.

And he waits...he waits for a very long time, but the door doesn't open.

"Well, this is unexpected." He hears her voice behind him and smiles, keeping his hands in his pockets. He doesn't turn around.

"I didn't think turning over the keys would mean I'd be locked out for the remainder of my days. Really, Lilith?" He turns to face her, his boyish charm ready, "Is that any way to treat an old friend?"

The Lilith he had left in charge is not the same Lilith standing before him today. When he last saw her, granted, he had betrayed her, she was pissed, but she was glorious. Lilith had always been his playful partner in crime, his right hand and, a very long time ago, his perfect way to satisfy all of his...particular appetites…before he met Allison, of course. Now, she's wearing a suit - granted, it hugs her curves beautifully, as usual, and her femininity is not lost on him - but her wild, wavy hair is tied back into a braid - and she is showing very little skin. Heck, she is barely showing any cleavage.

"You mean a former employer, don't you?" She crosses her arms, trying her best to look as intimidating as he used to when he was upset. It's not exactly working.

Lucifer smiles, "While I find your current mood towards me endearing, do you really think if I was just a former employer that you would go out of your way to sense me outside of Hell and personally greet me at the door? I must say, you are slipping, Lilith."

That earns him a smirk, "Nice to know death hasn't changed you."

"Ah, you heard about that."

"Yes, and don't worry, I kept the details of your demise out of prying ears." This makes him curious, but he doesn't ask, knowing Lilith's outburst is about to begin. "What were you thinking, Lou?" It's been years, thousands of them, since she called him that. It used to irritate him at first, but then he allowed it, only when they were alone, and only when he had deserved it... "I mean, I can figure out the why, but what were you thinking?" She holds up her hand when he opens his mouth to answer - it makes him smile. "You died. You really died."

"I wasn't aware there is more than one degree of dead."

She huffs, "I'm being serious. You ripped your heart out," he doesn't even flinch at the memory, "how are you even here?"

He smiles, "Remember Gabriel?" He licks his lips, touching his finger on his bottom lip as he recalls the memory. "The dead can always come back, as we all now."

She quirks a brow, "That is different."

"How is it different? He's an archangel, I am an archangel-"

"You're a fallen arch who has developed clear delusions about what he is and what-"

"I would advise caution, Lilith, for I may have lost my place amongst you, but I have not lost myself." His eyes shine with a fire she has not seen in a while.

She clears her throat, "When Gabriel died, you took his soul. He belonged to us. When you died, I felt it. We all did. But you weren't with us. You weren't in Hell and considering the fact that hell didn't freeze over, I doubt you were in Heaven, so I ask you again, what happened? Where were you? How did you come back?"

"Your concern is touching, but I don't understand how knowing would help your cause, unless you want to try ritual suicide as a way to overtake heaven."

"Fine," she throws her arms up, "Don't tell me, you bloody selfish, self-righteous bastard."

John smirks, "You've been waiting a long time to say that, haven't you?"

She huffs, "You've no idea. As you're clearly committed to being uncooperative, I have nothing further to say to you and you're not welcome in Hell."

Lucifer smirks, "I'm...unwelcome? That is interesting. Care to elaborate?"

She narrows her eyes, "While I was able to keep the manner of your death a secret, Mephistopheles was a bit too forthcoming about the manner in which you left us."

"Ah," he smiles in understanding. He has to smile, even though inside, he's imagining his hand around Mephistopheles' neck and squeezing until there's nothing there but dust. Loyalty is the one thing he expected from his followers-perhaps not blind loyalty, not to the point where they did things without question, he is not his father, but for Mephistopheles to offer information that hadn't been his to offer...while understandable, to a point, is still rather vexing. "Are you trying to protect me?"

"You wish," she scoffs, but Lucifer knows there's a half-lie somewhere in that statement. "I was merely attempting to keep the regiment from killing each other. I should, out of courtesy, advise you that there are those who are unhappy with your decision, should you encounter them, I can offer you no protection."

"Do you think I would ask for your protection?"

To that, she actually smiles - her first, full smile since she's seen him. "No, of course not."

"Before you delude yourself," that halts her smile, "into thinking I've come here to fight your battles, or fight you. I was going to ask a favor, but in light of recent news, that task might prove to be more complicated than I first thought. I need an identity, a mortal identity."

Lilith's hand goes over her mouth as she tries to muffle her laughter. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Twice." She smirks, placing her hands behind her back. "A wise man once taught me, everything has a price."

He smiles, remembering his own words, "Name your price."

"A favor to be called on at any time that it is needed." She extends her hand towards him.

He looks at it, but doesn't take it - not yet. Yes, everything has a price, but is it a price he'll be willing to pay? Probably not. He can either take the risk or try to walk over the minefield of what used to be his domain, to find someone who might still be loyal to him and could grant him the favor. That could take time.

"I have one condition."

She quirks a brow, but does not take back her hand, "This ought to be interesting."

"Allison. She cannot be involved in whatever favor you ask of me." He reaches for her hand takes it. Her grip is tight, a little too tight, and he feels the burn of it - oh, she's adjusting to her current position just fine.

"That sounds reasonable. Lucifer, you have my word that I will not request Allison's services in any of my delicious designs." She smiles, sounding more like herself by the minute. "Which brings me to my next question," she takes a step towards him, then another, until their noses are almost touching. "You haven't asked me."

"How did it feel to be naked before your subjects?"

Her eyes widened, "How did you-"

"Failsafe," he smirks, "In the event someone attempted to take my throne, I wasn't going to make it easy."

"But I didn't take it, you-never mind, I will not have this discussion with you. You haven't asked me where Allison is, which makes me wonder if you even want to know."

His eyes are no longer playful, but dark. "I had been toying with the possibility of being prudent, for once."

"After everything that happened, do you really think you can stay away?" She leans closer, presses her cheek against his, and whispers in his ear, "I was always faithful to you, Lucifer. Loyal. I didn't always do what I was told, but I always did what you needed me to do, what I thought you needed. I took care of her. I gave her a new life. She has someone watching over her, from a distance, just a lowly demon, no one quite high profile, and completely faithful to you."

He swallows, but pretends to be unaffected and unimpressed by her loyalty, "How is she?"

"She's Allison," she leans back, crossing her arms, "I put her in Texas. I figured you would appreciate that considering what happened last time you had a little too much fun during winter."

That surprises him, "You admit that you thought about my return."

She smirks, "I hoped. Very unlike me. I will purge myself of such an emotion as soon as I get back, I assure you."

"I would give you a few suggestions."

"Bite me."

"Promises, promises."

They both share a smile, and it's reminiscent of a time when they dared to use the term "friends". Lilith sees the immediate danger-realizes they should not be this friendly, not now, not anymore, and clears her throat.

"I take it you would like me to make a life with you in Texas, with Allison?"

"Not quite." He has waited for this moment for so long, for a chance to be with her as whom he really is, not necessarily what...but he doesn't want to rush it. He doesn't trust this, whatever this is. He will wait, he will be patient, he will allow time to pass and observe her from afar and then he will decide when is the right time...he will not break into her home and ravage her in her sleep. He shakes that thought away immediately.

"I can provide you with the precise specifications for my identity, but I will need to grant you access to my mind to allow this. You will not deviate from what I will show you and you will not overstep, is that understood?"

"I tell you I had been your most faithful companion, and you still don't trust me?"

"Had. Past tense. Grammar is a hobby of mine."

She rolls her eyes, "I understand your conditions, Lucifer. Let's get this over with."

"One more thing; the demon you have watching her, call it back. With my return, she won't need any other guardians. One demon in her life is enough."


	2. Chapter 1 - Giving In

**Stating the Obvious:** The following fanfic is a sequel to "Final Prophecy" (because, apparently, I can't quit these two).

**Disclaimer:** I have no right over the Prophecy franchise, the movies, the characters and whatnot. Nor am I versed in the mythology of the movies as a whole.

**Author's Note: **I actually thought of rewriting the Epilogue for The Final Prophecy. I don't know. There were a few things I just thought needed work before I wrote this chapter (which is why I don't like posting anything until I have the whole thing finished because my OCD will make me go back and fix it, even if it's not broken). But then I thought, what would Allison do? Would she fuss about changing something she can't change or would she just change everything going forward? Hmm, might work. And next thing I knew, my muse gave me something good to focus on. WARNING! This fic is way R rated. I mean, way. My only consolation when writing chapters this erotic is, well, I don't think many people that cannot fathom R ratings would watch the movies to begin with (I remember when I saw Viggo Mortensen as Lucifer. I was in my teens. I couldn't sleep without a nightlight for DAYS.), so I don't worry too much...but is a good R rating. A very good R rating. NC-17 kind of good...but they've earned it. Oh, have they earned it.

* * *

**Chapter 1. **Giving In

* * *

_You're the only story that I never told _  
_ You're my dirty little secret, wanna' keep you so _  
_ Come on out, come on over, help me forget _  
_ Keep the walls from falling on me, tumbling in_  
_ - This is love that I'm feeling_

**"This is Love" PJ Harvey**

* * *

Allison still thinks she's dreaming. One moment, she had been getting ready for her dreaded blind date with an atheist professor, the next moment she was joined by none other than John. Lucifer. The Fallen One. The one who used her, then refused to help her, then wouldn't leave her alone...and in the end, he had died for her.

She had spent countless nights contemplating the impossibility of her situation: she was alive. Lucifer wasn't. He had died for her. He had left his entire domain to Lilith. Lilith, who should hate her guts, gave her a new identity in memory of him.

It didn't make sense. And what was even more awkward, they were having dinner, amongst humans and, even though Allison kept inquiring as to what happened to him after death, about how well she took it, how well _Lilith_ took it, John shushed her every time, telling her to speak only of approved dating topics, of the future, not the past. Allison only complied because the waitress already thought they were weird enough, an argument would probably make her call the cops.

However, Allison's concerns hadn't disappeared, just momentarily subdued. She'd give him this night of just them, no concerns - she owed him that much, she thought. But still...

To someone who had read the bible, perhaps not with the comprehension of the completely devout, Lucifer is selfish. He loves no one but himself. He enjoys destroying humanity, destroying whatever is good, and relishing in the suffering of others. He's a monster and, yet, he showed her…things she never thought him capable of.

Then again, he was an angel once, an arch, created by God.

Perhaps she shouldn't be so surprised. If there's something that she believed in above all else, other than God, of course, it's love. Love makes people do crazy things, stupid things and, more often than not, bad things. Terrible things. Is she one of John's terrible things?

"You haven't said a word since we left the restaurant," John pulls her away from her thoughts. She's been gripping the steering wheel for a while, trying to keep her focus on the road, and ignoring the fact she's driving John home, who had called a taxi – probably to make sure she would be the one to take him home.

"Sorry," she half smiles, "just have a lot on my mind."

"Wouldn't it be easier to simply voice what is on your mind?"

She can feel his eyes on her, but she doesn't turn her head to meet his. At dinner, she had been so shocked by his presence, yet so relieved, she didn't even have to think about her actions. He was alive. She wouldn't have to live with his absence, with the possibility of meeting someone else and comparing them to him, or worse, meeting someone else and having him show up _then_ – though that, to her, always seemed like the unlikeliest of options.

He was there. He found her. He'd been waiting for the right time…and he showed. He actually showed.

She smiles again, "Easier for you, maybe."

He returns her smile, slightly, looking down at his hands, "I have other ways to extract information."

The blood threatens to rush to her head; as soon as he says that, memories come sweeping in, and she's trying not to anticipate what she's driving into as it causes her body to react on instinct.

She shudders.

"I don't think you're thinking about extracting information as much as you are thinking about making me forget it," she mutters, taking care to stop at every stop sign and, she's glad she's the one driving because she's not sure if John can even drive, let alone obey the laws of traffic enough to be patient. She can tell he's undressing her with his eyes and her skin tingles at the very thought of it. This is normal. This is them. But how many times...how many...

"Allison," he snaps her out of her reverie, "you just drove past my building."

"Oh, sorry," she slows down, looking at her rear view mirror, deciding to just make a U-turn since the roads are not that busy. She's not surprised that John lives downtown - it's close to the university he works at - but the fact that it towers over them unsettles her. He directs her to the parking garage underneath the building and the security guard that lets them through almost had his eyes fall out when he realized John was in the passenger seat, and with a girl, no less.

"You don't bring women here very often, do you?" She tries to smile, making light conversation to calm her nerves as he directs her to what he calls his parking spot in a dark little corner further away from the elevator than she'd like - why she's nervous after everything she's gone through with him, she doesn't know, but she is half-human, after all. The most dominant part of her always has been, she thinks.

"Never would be a more fitting term," he replies as she parks, turning the ignition off, and she looks at him, eyebrow quirked, and it's his intense gaze, the seriousness of his statement, that makes her do something she didn't think she'd be doing - at least not _there_. She unbuckles her seatbelt and without so much as a "by your leave", moves toward him so that she claims his mouth in a desperate kiss. He pulls her the rest of the way, letting her throw herself on him in the most awkward position she's yet to manage. The car is spacious as there is a comfort to a Kia - the Kia Sorento - which she had enjoyed in her previous life, as her mother seemed to like those the most. He lets the seat fall back to better accommodate her form and helps her straddle him, his hand on her rear, pushing himself against her until either of them can't - won't - breathe for fear of stopping.

She feels his erection - feels herself ready - and she breaks the kiss, locking gazes with him, and she's about to say she hopes he lives on the first floor but his smile tells her he knows what she's thinking - hoping for - and, knowing John, of course he wouldn't settle for anything but a penthouse kind of flat.

_Fuck that_, she thinks, and the movements are quick - clumsy - but with every intent made. When she feels the skin of his shaft, it's a struggle trying to get her pants off - had she known he'd be the blind date, she would've been smart enough to wear a skirt - but once it's off, he slips himself inside and it's almost as if months had not passed, as if they had never died at all, as if life had been there, waiting for them, connecting themselves in a way that nothing else could ever fit, ever compare to.

There's no grace to it, no soft kisses or gentle caresses. They're both moving frantically, thrusting upwards, rocking hips, pulling hair, biting lips, moaning into long, deep kisses that threaten to unmake them both. Her release is quick - it's been too long - and she shudders through it, but John doesn't stop, instead he pulls her closer to him, his head buried in her neck until she hears him growl - feels the vibrations coming from his chest - and he finally comes, biting her shoulder in a way that makes her come a second time, an entire wave of pleasure touching down to the tip of her toes and she realizes then, she can't move. Her legs feel like jelly. She laughs, catching her breath, lying on him, trying not to fall asleep.

"We're going to get caught," she mutters.

"Allison, I'm sure had we had an audience, even they would have the common decency to applaud and leave us be."

"Not everyone is as perverse as you," she smiles.

"Of course not," he caresses her thigh with his thumb, "now, do you keep tissues in your vehicle, or should I pull out and ruin your seat?"

"Don't, wait, don't move, keep it in," she instructs as she sits up, trying to lean back so she can reach for the glove compartment behind her. John takes this as an invitation to lift her shirt and play with one of her nipples. It makes the heat down there grow.

_He's insatiable_, she thinks. Then again, so is she.

She manages to find a few napkins from the many drive-thru places she's collected them from. She hands him a couple and keeps a few to herself. As they separate, she covers her sex with a napkin, tries to stuff it as close to the entrance as possible and then manages to jump back to her seat, bumping the emergency break and the steering wheel, but nothing that would leave a huge bruise - John's teeth usually take care of those.

John hands her her underwear and pants and she tries to make sure she's done _leaking_ before she tries to make a mess of her clothes.

They're both catching their breath when, suddenly, a sound shocks her. John is laughing. He's actually laughing. She's seen him smile, she's seen him smile in so many ways she knows the meaning of each mile - one as mischievous as the next - but laughing? It makes him look younger...and human. It's so beautiful, she almost cries. She can't speak, won't, for fear of stopping him. He stops laughing, eventually, and looks at her in his most boyish smile.

"I had originally thought you wouldn't make it past the elevator. You, my dearest, have surprised me yet again, and that is no easy feat."

She smiles, blinking away a tear, "Well, then, shall we?"

His smile is curious, almost pensive, and he reaches for her cheek, brushing away the tear. "Of course. Though, lets keep our clothes on this time. Sadly, sheep have rules about sex in public places." Off her quirked brow, "This parking space has a delicious blind spot. Had you not made the first move, I would have."

"Good to know," she smiles, pocketing her keys and stepping out, her legs still tingling but able to move now. They meet at the front of her car and John waves to someone behind her. When she turns, he seen another security guard, an older man, and by the smile plastered all over his face and the thumbs up he gives when Allison eyes him, she knows he saw. She blushes, laughing into John's chest, and he finds her hand, giving it a squeeze that makes her _not_ care who probably saw her ass while she tried to take off her pants not too long ago.

When they head to the elevator, John proves he was right. They're already kissing, touching, breathing each other in and, even though they keep their clothes on, it doesn't make it any less indecent.

They stumble out of the elevator, finally, and she thinks they should probably stop kissing to see where they're going but John disagrees. He won't stop touching her and she can't stop touching _him_ as a result. When they're at his door, he has to stop, she thinks, but he doesn't, simply continues to kiss her against the door as he uses one hand to find his keys and make the door open for them.

He separates only to ensure it's locked behind them and then he picks her up, as if she'd weigh less than a feather, and with her arms around his neck, the kiss continues. She keeps her eyes closed, blinding herself to what she knows must be a lavish apartment, but all she cares about is John, not where he's taking her to. Once he drops her on a very soft mattress - probably memory foam, she thinks - he's pulling her pants off again and before she can even ask if they should probably shower first, he is on top of her, kissing every inch of her skin until his head is between her legs and then she's lost, she's gone, her mind is spinning and John is at the center of it all.

That night, she becomes acquainted with the world eternal in completely different way. It's not eternal damnation she's feeling, or eternal hell fire, or eternal torment. It's bliss. They've covered every inch of the bed and, once they shed the desperation, once they realize neither of them is going to die tomorrow and they might finally have a chance at _more_, their movements are slow, wanting to discover every inch of themselves anew, and they do. She laughs when he finds a ticklish spot (on the back of her knee and across her butt, only if you touch it just right, a feather-like touch) and he laughs when they both fall to the floor, blankets and all, because of their occasional power struggle of who's on top.

As the sun begins to rise, they both realize they've been going at it far longer than should be considered normal - have they ever _been_ normal? She starts doing the math in her head to think how long they've been at it after which John decrees, "Not long enough, if you're still conscious enough to do mathematical equations," and after she laughs, trying to run away from his grip, he claims her again, her sex is on fire - a delicious fire - as he takes her from behind and she's laughter and moans, digging her nails into the carpet, wondering how much of this she can take before her body collapses, before her mind shorts out, before her entire existence tells her it's time to stop.

Can people die of pleasure and happiness? John is intent on helping her find out.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Phew. Hot. I mean, well. I imagined the reunion would involve some of this, but not an entire banquet of it. Yum yum. I like surprising myself, because I do. I start writing one thing and then suddenly I'm all like, "Well, then. Cold shower it is. Thanks, muse." I do want to take a moment to say how wonderful you guys are, have been, and continue to be. I love writing, don't often get a chance to (work, boyfriend, my health and my muse; sigh, it doesn't always give me the chance to), but when I do, you guys give me something to look forward to, even if I end up hurting a bit in the end, it's worth trying. So, thanks. And now that the honeymoon phase/chapter is done, oh, what reality awaits? My muse has given me a few clues and, let me tell you, I don't like it, especially since it might mean doing more research than I'd want to do on the Apocalypse -_- lets just say, when I read certain things/topics, I tend to dream about them. Vividly. It's not funny to do an oral report in college about Tsunamis and then dream you're outrunning one and feel yourself hugging your loved one, crying because you know you're both going to die, and then feel the blast of the water hit you. Woke up crying from that one. So, yeah, I try to avoid certain reading topics (though, erotica, whooohooo, do not mind dreaming about that) *sigh* sadly, my muse likes the darkness better than I do. C'est la vie.


	3. Chapter 2 - A Time for Mysteries

**Stating the Obvious:** The following fanfic is a sequel to "Final Prophecy" (because, apparently, I can't quit these two).

**Disclaimer:** I have no right over the Prophecy franchise, the movies, the characters and whatnot. Nor am I versed in the mythology of the movies as a whole.

**Author's Note:** I don't know if any of you have seen the film "Thinner" (based on a book by Stephen King...amazing author. Completely unrelated to this fic and the point of this comment, if you haven't read Rose Madder, add it on your to-read list. One of my favorites), but if you have, then you know the actress that portrays Allison has a small but significant role in it. She's one of the gypsies. A very attractive one, if I do say so myself. While I don't see her in that wig at all, writing this chapter, seeing how John saw her, made me think of her part in that film. As plain as she can seem (especially if she's wearing plain, Catholic-approved clothes), she has the potential to look, um, not so plain. Not plain at all.

* * *

**Chapter 2.** A Time for Mysteries

* * *

_We made it to hell and back, our hearts intact._  
_ But the faith I had gained you seemed to lack._

"**Lover Let Me In**"** Maria Mena**

* * *

John watches her sleep. He doesn't move, he breathes slowly - quietly, patiently - and he simply watches her body resting face down on the mattress, her cheek on his stomach, her hair a complete mess, covering half her face. Her arms are above her, one over his stomach, palm down, the other over his legs. He's thankful he has control of himself or else his erection would've have been poking either her chest or her arm, depending on which angle it decided to go for. She looks beautiful to him like this, just like this, like a wild gypsy, her skin coated with sunlight and her smile full of promises, of honesty and truth. Such a rare brand of sheep, yet so common, the song she sings is one only he can listen to, and _feel_.

He wants this moment to be forever encased in a memory, of the instant when he made love to Allison as just another man - another supernatural being with the physical body of a man - not the Prince of Darkness, not Satan, and yet, his change in title doesn't make him feel in any way different. He still cares very little for people as a whole - especially those below him who bore him with their monotone life, those who ignore the possibility of greatness and potential, those who really don't deserve anything but delicious punishment for their incompetence. John is still Lucifer. A title can change, but a being's personality remains intact. He had never been one to believe that the evil could be purged so easily. Even an alcoholic in rehabilitation will slip every so often, the only way to keep from doing so is to control your environment, to remove the alcohol, and to keep yourself as far away from temptation.

However, when you're the devil - _were _the devil - evil is everywhere, choices to be made, needs to fulfill.

Right now, in this moment, he wants to be selfish - _so very selfish -_ to use whatever connections he has left and take her as far away from the world as possible, to live apart, to make love all night, all day, to give in to bodily needs when warranted, but to simply give in to each other until the world ended, far away from _them_, so that they don't notice, blissfully unaware of everything that aren't naked limbs, moans and pleasure, so much pleasure.

His thoughts cause his cock to stir, just a twitch, but he controls it, clearing his throat and smiling.

Such a woman God made - a product of an angel and a mortal, no doubt, but still a child of God. How did he make her so common, so human, yet so captivating at the same time?

"Hmmm," he feels her moan into his stomach as she stirs, edging closer to him, so that her arms embrace his stomach. He smiles, brushing the hair off her face, and it makes her eyes flutter before finally opening, blinking once, twice, before she smiles and presses her face into his stomach, stretching awkwardly for a moment before she relaxes herself on top of him, looking nothing like a human and more like a very satiated feline.

"Good afternoon," he murmurs, and she smiles again, her hair covering half her eye. She blows it off and they both chuckle. She starts to crawl towards him until their faces are inches away and she parts her lips, watching him, and he's perfectly still, waiting.

When her lips brush against his, they're soft, tender, appreciative, and once her mouth opens, his hands are at the back of her head, pulling her closer, and she's straddling him again and it's the same dance all over again, skin slapping against skin, breath and moans mingling. John sits up, holding her close to him, whispering words in her ears - _commands -_ and she meets each and every one, leaving marks he's not likely to forget.

Her legs are locked behind his back and they're not in a hurry, enjoying their movements, the fulfillment of filling each other with pleasure, with friction, with embraces and kisses. When John turns them, he loses himself in her, pulling her legs to rest above his shoulders and she bites the pillow in absence of him, and he hasn't much more to fill her _with_ but it doesn't stop him from trying, from driving himself so far into her that he swears he'll break them both and when they collapse, they're next to each other, with half her body draped over his and they're both spent, sticky and a total mess.

"We've wasted an entire day-"

"Bite your tongue, actually, never mind that, I'll do it for you," and off her chuckle, he simply kisses her forehead, "We've wasted nothing. If my memory serves me right, we've enjoyed every second. Do you consider that a waste?"

She shakes her head, "You know what I meant. We haven't..."

He sighs, "You expect answers, as always." Her silence gives him the only answer he needs, "What if I told you answers would complicate things? I know you. It is because I know you that I knew once you learned of my motives with the sisters, you would jump to your own conclusions and do what you wanted to do, irregardless of what it would do to you, to us. You're too reckless, too selfless."

"I'm not selfless," she murmurs, but does not deny the reckless part, "I kept coming back for you, remember?"

His half-smile is honest, "Yes, I do. I also mentioned you were reckless." They intertwine their hands together and he kisses the back of her hand, before resting it on his chest. "All right, what do you wish to know?"

She looks into his eyes, surprised, then looks down, sorting in her head which question he's probably likely agree to answer first.

"What happened...when you died?"

He had expected that question, of course, and still hadn't come up with a good answer for it. The truth would have to do. Lies, at this point, would complicate things...would give them a way to ruin his second chance. Or is this his third?

He considers his words carefully, "I remember darkness. I remember the cold. I remember silence, but as my mind was my own, it was only my body I had no control over-if I even had a body, wherever I was," he smiles, wondering what kind of hell God would concoct for someone like him...nothingness? It would not surprise him in the least. After all, he and his Father did not exactly part in good terms. He was cast out. He did not _fall_. There was absolutely nothing poetic about it. It was a banishment, plain and simple, a lesson to be learned, one he came to terms with shortly after. He would rather be the Prince of Darkness than the servant of a tyrant he no longer believed in; one that would sacrifice his own son to save the lives of his precious mortals, most of which no longer believed in him. That brings forth a memory that makes him smile.**  
**

"Was it limbo?" Allison's voice is quiet, careful, as if trying to spare his feelings. How _sweet._

"No," he tries not to laugh at her assumption, "Limbo is quite different and often a playground for most angels on either side. In the end, I awoke in an alley and received quite a welcome party." Off her quirked brow, "Oh, no one special. No one I'm fond of, really. The son of your God, the presumably sanctimonious prodigy."

That makes Allison's breath hitch, "Jesus? You're serious. Jesus was there?"

He laughs softly, realizing how insane that sentence sounds out loud, "Yes, he was there to see me off. He did not enlighten me as to why I was here or why I was brought back...he told me you were waiting."

"Me?" She blushes, swallowing hard, "He knew I'd be waiting?"

"What is it that truly surprises you," He smiles, "The fact that Jesus saw me off or that Jesus knew you were waiting for me?"

"Stop it," she tries to push herself into a seating position, clearly embarrassed, trying to put distance between them, but he keeps her against him, between his arm and his ribs, "John." She obviously has too much of the fear of God.

"You must know, Allison," he uses his strength to turn the odds and move to rest on top of her, pinning her under him, "He knows everything. I must say they must keep an eye on us, for no other reason than fascination and entertainment. And, as I'm sure you know, the show has only just begun," the way smirks tells her what kind of show he plans on continuing.

"John, I've been holding it in for hours," she tries, in vain, to shove him off, and he can tell she's partly lying, "It's not hard to do, most of the time, but once I go over 12 hours, it gets a little bit painful," she shimmies her way out from under him and, well, he allows it, because he himself had allowed himself to eat and drink last night, he understands what she means, even though he knows it's just a clever excuse to get out of their current discussion...he'll allow it, for now.

He walks into the bathroom and she closes her legs, causing him to quirk a brow as in, really, he's been there before, nothing that comes out of there would surprise him.

_She must really be sensitive about the possibility of a voyeur Jesus._

He heads straight for the stand up shower, opening the glass door of the spacious tiled bathroom, the light brown, almost seashell colored, and he makes sure to turn around and smile at Allison's watchful eyes as he closes the door. He runs the hot water first - he never, ever minds hot, scalding water - but adapts it to a tolerable level just in case she decides to join him.

To his amusement, she decides to continue asking questions before even thinking of doing him the common courtesy of joining him.

"I'm still trying to get over the fact that Jesus told you I was waiting for you. It actually borders on creepy, terrifying, and not at all what I thought would bring you back to me."

He chuckles, "Jesus did not bring me to you, Allison, and you should never ever say that aloud. It may hurt what's left of my credibility. You brought me to you, plain and simple, although I should be angry at you."

"At me?" She nearly shrieks.

"You had to get involved in Gabriel and Michael's plans for you, you had to save the girl, you had to save me-you couldn't just let me lead-"

"-because the kind of world you were trying to lead us into is not one I was willing to live in-"

"-and while your ingratitude does not make you any less appealing to me, you're forgiven, to a point, but know now that every time you attempt to refuse or disobey-"

"Disobey!? I think you have the wrong idea of what this relationship has been defined by, and obeying isn't it-"

"I will remind you of the realm I left, for you, the throne I stood down from, the million of loyal subjects I've disappointed and the billion of souls that will miss my delicious torment-" She interrupts him, finally, by opening the glass door and stepping in, her eyes on fire. When she notices his smile is wide, like the Cheshire cat kind of wide, she knows he was baiting her and she narrows her eyes before she slaps his chest.

That's all he needs to get her to come close to him again, to hold her body against him under the warm water and, it's not long until their bodies are dancing again, her face against the glass.

"John, don't," she says through gritted teeth.

"Don't what?" He leans closer, their bodies too close for her not to feel his need - his constant need of her.

"Don't try to turn me into you when you know...I can't be that. I'll never be that. I thought you'd realize that by now..."

When he turns her around, her eyes look scared, worried even, and it makes him want to curse what's left of his existence - what's left of God's. He caresses her cheek with his thumb, "If I had wanted you to be like me, Allison, I would've never given you a chance to stop me."

And he doesn't let her think that through as he claims her lips knowing full-well, she won't stop him. Not now. Not ever.

She is his.

* * *

"Any news?" Lilith looks bored on the throne, looking down on one of her subjects who is kneeling before her and has yet to raise her head.

Lilith hasn't really taken the task of redecorating - there were many things about Lucifer that annoyed her, his decorative skills certainly not one of them - but she had gone through lengths to make the hold over _her_ dominion known. No man, or woman, looks her in the eye unless invited to, all of her minions report directly to her, her authority is not to be questioned or challenged and those who do are dealt with, _immediately._ One of the things she liked about Lucifer was that, during his reign, he wasn't a tyrant. He allowed Belial to rebel, he used a monkey to seek him out, but he did it as a game, just to watch the pieces move. Lilith understands tactics but she also understands that, in spite of the fact that he chose _her_ to succeed him, there are too many possibilities of someone trying to undermine her; some are still loyal to Lucifer, and she needs to be very careful of those, even if it makes her behavior border on paranoid and/or psychotic from time to time.

The fallen kneeling before her is a dangerous one, one even Lucifer himself did not trust enough to involve her in his inner circle, but her skills are ones Lilith needs as with her power comes certain advantages.

The fallen finally raises her head, her auburn-colored eyes glistening, her face chiseled like a wood nymph, so much mischievous grace, and dark brown hair falling lazily over the sides of her face. When she smiles, it looks positively feral, and Lilith has the good sense to narrow her eyes as a warning, "Well?"

"It is all falling into place, Mistress, just as I said it would." Her voice is small, child-like, which is ironic given the circumstances.

A fallen like Procel has many tricks up her sleeve, many secrets and very little loyalties.

As Lilith smiles, Procel's smile widens, wielding a secret that not even she will tell.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Yeah. It won't be all pretty and nice after this one, I'm afraid. Is it sad that Procel was supposed to be a man in my head and as I finished writing it, became a woman? Or not odd at all, since most literature indicate angels have no real gender. And I apologize for the lateness of this chapter. Crazy, crazy life. Dallas Comic Con (where I met Nathan Fillion and Summer Glau, geek moment!) and mother-in-law coming down nearly every weekend because she is house-hunting (living closer to my boyfriend's mother...oh, dear) and, well, it'll be harder to update (work is crazy) but I'll do my very best. These two are far from over, it appears, since I've been doing way more research into the history behind the fallen as a whole, and the impending apocalypse, I'm this close to giving myself a nightmare. THIS close. But all for a good cause I suppose...we shall see (since, this time, I'm not 100% sure it'll have a happy ending. Sigh.)

**Proofreading Note: **Also, I've concluded the reason it takes me so long to post these is because I proofread before I publish, I have no one to proofread for me, and try to proofread it until I have no corrections to make on the last proofreading attempt...so, maybe, I should soon consider getting a beta-reader...we shall see.


	4. Chapter 3 - When Angels Descend

**Stating the Obvious:** The following fanfic is a sequel to "Final Prophecy" (because, apparently, I can't quit these two).

**Disclaimer:** I have no right over the Prophecy franchise, the movies, the characters and whatnot. Nor am I versed in the mythology of the movies as a whole.

**Author's** **Note: **So, this chapter, hmmm...I had envisioned it one way and then when I started typing, well, it kind of got away from me. I have no idea where it's taking me at this point. I mean, I have an inkling as to how it's going to end (ah, it tugs the heartstrings), but the journey there? It's surprising even me, and that's saying something! I should also mention that on the 12th of July, I will be going on a trip back home (with my boyfriend and his mother, oh goodness), so I will be out for a whole week with limited access to the internet and might not be able to update for a while. Take that and the fact that I have acute sinusitis (again) isn't helping matters. I apologize for the wait, but hopefully, I can make it worth it!

* * *

**Chapter 3. **When Angels Descend**  
**

* * *

_How can you expect more of me?_  
_I come from chaos_  
_Brought up in tragedy_

**"**You Hurt the Ones You Love (I Don't Believe That)**" Maria Mena  
**

* * *

Allison is trying to wrap her head around the fact that, well, the past day and a half, they've been going at it like rabbits...now that she put her foot down about, well, needing to put her foot down rather than having her legs up in the air the whole time - or wrapped around his waist - it seems they're having...communication issues.

John hadn't really bought anything to cook during his time living there, though he did have fruits, which he enjoys quite a bit, and he had offered to buy a live chicken which he would be more than happy to decapitate and have her fix it into a meal.

"No," she had immediately responded, "I'd rather not be in charge of cooking the chicken after seeing you break its neck."

To which he had responded with, "Ripping a heart out of an angel, you have no trouble with, but killing a chicken, for the purpose of sustenance, that startles you?"

Allison had wanted a meal, something quick, so they opted for pizza, and Allison had been amused to discover John is a very bad tipper - luckily, she isn't.

As they shared the meal, the subject of occupations came up, and while John is doing very well with his chosen profession - and enjoys it, sadistically - being a professor of theology at a university with exclusive Catholic roots, Allison is not doing well enough...not in John's eyes.

"How exactly is my job trivial?" She narrows her eyes, daring him to continue his side of the argument.

"You're an accountant, Allison," he says, as that alone should be the only evidence needed as to why her job is trivial. "Granted, math is the key to the universe, but that particular brand of math is almost...undignified. You calculate the numbers based on someone else's expenses. Doesn't it make you feel like you're being paid a fragment of what your CEO receives from your work? Have you even met your CEO?"

Allison wants to throw him with the pizza slice, mushrooms and all, because, damn it, he has a point. John has always had a way with the truth, even if he is, by nature, a liar.

"I chose my profession," she says through gritted teeth, "not because it was important, life-altering or rich, but because it is quiet and peaceful. I don't have to interact with people, care about them or risk losing them. It is a job I can do well, and do it without anyone trying to get in my way."

"But it is not you," he argues, as-a-matter-of-factly, swishing his wine around, delicately, before touching the glass to his lips.

She gapes, "And what am I, John? A nephalim? Once that has lost nearly everything that matters, except her memories? Do you want me to work at a school again, to see you with a student, to remember the pain inflicted, what you're capable of-"

"You are weakening yourself by hiding," his eyes are firm, serious, but it's the tone of his voice that stops her cold. "Need I remind you when was it that I realized my feelings for you, Allison? It wasn't when you found the book, nor when you brought it to me, nor when you killed your brother," he smiles at how much that actually surprised him, "nor when you sought my assistance...no, then, you were only an intriguing little monkey, a means to an end, but it took much longer than that to realize what you meant...most mortals spend their entire life dreaming, running towards impossible goals, but running to them all the same. You? You spent your entire life shrouded in nightmares and yet...you never ran. You tried to pretend, to be normal, but you never once disappeared. You sought me out. You found me. I found you. Not in that order," he smiles. "And now, after my presumed death, you hide? Allison...you are so much better than that."

Allison doesn't know if it's because of his confession of love - the reminder of when and how - or how he touched too close to home - the past to her, so far away, but still screams at her from up close - or how he just made her feel like her life choice, after his death, has been such a letdown...she stands up and walks towards the door, getting her keys from the small table, in the foyer, and even though she hears him call after her - only once - she doesn't turn around.

She can't let him see his words _still_ hurt.

No matter what he _thinks_ he knows, she _is_ better than that, and she will not just sit there and take it.

She _won't._

* * *

John smiles for three reasons: one, the fact that he can rile her up so easily still amuses him - she's beautiful even when she's pissed. Two, he's lived longer than monkeys have had the privilege of existing and he knows these silly mortals don't love anything enough until they've fought for it, and with it, enough times to make their heads spin. And lastly, he is who he is, and pushing someone over the edge is what he does best, and in Allison's case, she needs it.

If they are to live the life he wants for them, he wants her to be blissfully happy. Not content, not satisfied in simplicity, but standing at the top of the world. She could be a lawyer, a judge, a professor, a teacher, a principal, a dean, a radical, anything that could unleash and exploit her potential, though knowing Allison, she'd be content with being a nun. He smirks - that profession wouldn't last long, not with him around.

"Careful, Lucifer, those thoughts might land you in a place that is no longer yours to reign."

John doesn't turn to look who spoke or who's standing behind him. He doesn't have to.

"Gabriel, to what do I owe this inconvenience?"

Gabriel walks towards his peripheral vision, but not quite in front of him. He's waiting for John to turn and meet his eyes. He will do no such thing.

"It's only been a day, already you're pushing her away. Tsk, not exactly what I call charming. So disappointing, considering how good you were with Eve."

John smiles, pretending he doesn't care about Gabriel's inquiries, but he does...it can only mean one thing.

"I did not request your services as a couple's counselor, Gabriel, and as such, there should be no reason for your commentary on how I conduct myself towards Allison." He finally turns his face, wishing to catch Gabriel off guard, to see some kind of reaction or sign as to what is going on - what are they plotting now? "Or is there a reason why you care?"

"She's interesting to you. Why shouldn't she be interesting to us?"

_Us_. The pronoun echoes in his head.

"I doubt your interest in her is the same as mine...or did you enjoy yesterday's show as much as I enjoyed performing it?"

"Oh, Lucifer," Gabriel smiles, walking closer towards the table, tapping his fingers over its length until he reaches the place where Allison had sat across from John. He takes the seat, almost theatrically, and crosses his legs, leaning back and placing a finger over his lip in thought. "Your return to this world is as much of a show...as mine was when you kicked me out of your domain."

He remembers that time. Gabriel is...well, he's trouble. In Heaven and in hell. He isn't a bad arch. Far from it, he is exceptional at what he does, however...he has certain attitude problems and, as devout as he claims to be towards his Lord and Master, he may, at times, steer away from the rules for the sake of what he may think is his Lord's vision. Then again, that only happened once. Well, twice. John only disobeyed once (well, maybe more than once) and he never once received forgiveness. Maybe that's why he and Gabriel never got along too well...otherwise, they're more alike than either of them would be willing to admit.

"Being as I am not privy as to why I've been sent back, I couldn't agree nor disagree. Care to share the reason of why He brought me back?" John leans forward, elbows on the table, chin over his hands which he joins together, fingers intertwined.

This makes Gabriel bark a laugh, "Now you're trying too hard. Lucifer," he leans forward, his eyes wide, the wrinkle around them showing too much amusement for John's liking. "The reason doesn't matter half as much as the consequences your actions may bring."

That breaks John's patience. One moment, he is sitting on his chair, calm, collected, the other moment he stands, flips the table to the side as if weighed nothing and moved towards Gabriel, placing each hand on the sides of the chair, "Enough. I may not be the fallen I once was, but I am a fallen all the same, and I will take pleasure in reminding Him of that fact."

Gabriel isn't laughing anymore, at least, his face is simply bemused, almost bored. He looks under his fingernails, "Consider yourself lucky, Lucifer. We're under strict orders not to touch you," that makes John raise an eyebrow. "We can't stop you, we can't hunt you, but no one said anything about annoying you."

"Clearly," John notes the obvious.

"And that should be a hint, Lucifer. _We_ can't touch _you. _Allison is, tragically, off limits as of recently, though there is some interesting fine print as to other angels...your former brethren, to be exact."

That makes John tense. Being the Prince of Darkness had its perks; how many times did he have to keep his subjects away from his nephalim? Unlike God, he kept a tight leash on his subjects - no one touched her without paying the price.

"Are you as selfless as you seem, when it comes to her?"

"I gave my life for hers once, dying again would make no difference to me," he says, without much thought.

"No!" Now it's Gabriel's turn to stand, and John takes his arms away - he has no choice - but he does not take a step back, making the proximity between them a dangerous one. Gabriel is taller, by a margin, but this doesn't deter John - as if anything ever could. "You ripped my heart out once, Satan, and pulled me to your dirty little plane of existence that reeked of bitterness, and I am still alive. You knew you wouldn't die. You knew you would survive it. You may not have known your destination, but you knew it wasn't over. You sacrificed a title that became a burden, but you did not sacrifice your life."

John doesn't allow himself a moment to consider those words, he simply does the only thing he can do, at this point, to save face.

He smiles, a very naughty smile.

"So, is that what this is about?" After noticing Gabriel's mirthless face, "You came all this way to throw a fit at the fact that I ripped my own heart out, and because I had an inkling of the end result, you consider that...cheating? Why, Gabriel, I confess I'm not exactly Jesus Christ, but then again, why should I be when there is very little amusement in playing fair?"

"Don't let your pride blind you, Lucifer. Even you are not that kind of an idiot. You know that with Him, your behavior will not be as fun as you want it to be."

"Oh, right, the omnipotent; the one who knows all, sees all," he mocks. "Tell me, Gabriel, can your faith explain this? If He truly is as powerful as is believed, then why are we here? If you had the ability to know everything that has happened and will happen, would you continue the existence of so much suffering and pain, so much betrayal, even your betrayal? If he truly is all powerful, why does he act so helpless?"

Gabriel leans in, too close, whispering in John's ear, "You are very lucky that He has ordered us not to touch you or else you'd be spending the next century putting your limbs back together, you ungrateful, spoiled brat."

With that, Gabriel walks off, around John, careful not to touch him, looking at him as if he were infected somehow.

John's lips thin, no longer smiling, knowing Gabriel is about to disappear behind him, but he has to know - he has to know how is it he still believes - John doesn't. "You didn't answer my question, Gabriel. Why do you still believe?"

There is a moment of silence - John thinks Gabriel has gone, for a moment, but Gabriel's words are soft now, patient even, as if addressing a child. "Because, unlike you, I never saw myself equal to Him. I just didn't see **them** worthy of Him. He is better than us, better than all the monkeys combined, yet He doesn't believe that. He believes us to be His children, worthy of His love, patience and forgiveness - more than we could ever earn in a million lifetimes. He is not helpless," his voice takes a bemused turn as he pauses, "We are."

When John turns, Gabriel, and any trace left behind, has gone.

He closes his hand in a fist. If there is something John/Lucifer does not enjoy being is _helpless_ - being told he's helpless by an arch no less, well, that just adds insult to injury.

* * *

When Allison finally arrives home, she's never been so relieved. Part of her feels like she left a big part of herself behind - after you spend so many lifetimes chasing a love that is clearly wrong for you, that tends to happen - but she functions all the same, walking up to her front porch, opening the door, only to hear the mewling of her cat.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry, I'm a horrible person," she bends over to scoop up the cat in her arms as soon as he lets her, though he struggles against it at first, but once he's a ball of white fur in her arms - and she has him in the right position, holding him like a baby, as she used to do when he was just a kitten - he simply meows and turns his head, then his body, until she has no choice but to let him go before she her arms pay the price.

She heads to the kitchen first and sees the cat's water bowl is low. She tends to that first before opening a cat of tuna. Normally, she would feed him actual cat food, but right now, she has amends to make.

Allison finds comfort in the simplicity of doing this: caring for someone other than herself, focusing on those needs and thinking of nothing else, but it does not last long.

She's leaning on the island, in the kitchen, replaying John's conversation - his end of it, at least - and how much it bothered her.

He's right. She did run, she hid, but in her defense, she thought he was dead. After his death...she didn't want anything to do with any of it. No more angels or nephalims. She just wanted to be Allison. She just wanted to be at peace. She wanted, hoped, that if she led a good life, if she made amends and answered for her sins - John, mainly - that she could at least be forgiven, by God, and maybe, just maybe, he would be merciful enough to reunite her with him.

She'll never admit that to John, though. He'd probably mock her or say something equally insulting towards her faith, her hope, that maybe, just maybe, they can both be forgiven and somehow, it'll all be okay.

Even she finds the thought of it ridiculous.

How can God forgive her? Not only has she fallen in love with the damned - devil or not - but she's joined him in whatever they are now. She's never been strong enough to walk away - not for very long, at least.

Her attention is stolen by a purring cat and it makes her smile as she watches him move between her legs, around them, rubbing his fur against her skin.

"Lucifer, you spoiled brat, are you saying you missed me?" She says aloud, looking down at the cat, and she chuckles to herself, wondering what John would think once he finds out she has a cat - again - and that she named him after _him_.

"Really, Allison, I'm hurt," the male voice behind her makes her jump. She turns around so fast that she's pretty sure she just got whiplash and probably needs to see a chiropractor. When her eyes find the source, her heart drops, her mind just stalls and she's not sure if she can even breathe.

"Simon." Her heart skips a beat, and another, until she _has_ to breathe, and his smile, it's dazzling, and it reminds her of a time so long ago, when she saw him, barely, through the glare of the sun, like a mist, almost there but not quite.

She only saw him that one time, but she would never forget, and his voice...his voice had been her companion for so long - her _torment_.

"Precisely. My name is far more suitable for a cat than Lucifer," he continues to smile and it's only after she starts crying like an idiot that he moves away from her window and pulls her into an embrace.

He's real. He's not in her head anymore, he's not just a voice in the back of her mind, he's not just someone _partly_ responsible for her parentage.

He's real.

And that brings forth the obvious question...she leans away from his embrace, but he doesn't let her go, his hands on her shoulders as he looks into her eyes, almost as if he's examining her, "Better?"

"Why...why are you here?" She sniffs, clearing the tears away with the back of her hand. She wants to trust him. She's always trusted him even before she knew who _he_ was, but in light of her life and how it usually plays out when it comes to angels, she has to ask.

"Why am I always here?" He smiles at her as if she's being silly, "I've come to help, whether he likes it or not."

Allison doesn't have to be told who he means by "he". Suddenly, her stomach drops.

She has a feeling things are going to get far more interesting than she wants them to be.

* * *

**Author's Afterwords: **Yeah. Don't look at me like that. I'm as stumped as you are. Firstly, Gabriel wasn't the angel I envisioned visiting John. So, then, when he came in, it was just too good to turn him away. See, a lot of people that see the movies get the movies, which makes me all warm and fuzzy inside, but then some people don't and they think Gabriel is a villain. Um, no, not really. Not to me, at least. He's faithful to his faith, he just lost faith in humanity, and why shouldn't he? Yes, he did a few things he shouldn't have been doing, buuuuut if you think about it, he's still faithful to his doctrine (to a point...flexible, really), and for John to come back at him like that...ooooh, it just all snapped into place so well. Simon, though, eludes me. I didn't see him coming and now that he has, I'm as skeptical and concerned as Allison is -_- and as the writer, that's not a good thing. Well, hope you enjoyed it! Now excuse me while I go question my muse's sanity.


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